(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
It's basically weird that no one has made a documentary about Joan Didion, one of the most respected and esteemed writers of her generation. Like Rebecca Solnit and Geoff Dyer – to name a few it is natural to compare her to – she is a writer who makes writing a way to mild on; she finds out who she is and what she thinks through writing. There is, as far as I can see, no sharp distinction between the person Joan Didion and the author. When she is having a hard time, there is nowhere outside of her writing work to retreat to. Writing is a kind of homecoming, or a way of "remembering who she really is", which she says towards the end of The Center Won't Hold.
Didion enrolled in the essay's identity politics – which began with Michel de Montaigne at the end of the 1500 century – where examining oneself becomes part of the investigation of the world.
Magical thoughts. The most striking example of the relationship between life and text is probably her last two books – The years of magic thinking og Blue evenings. The first book is about the loss of her husband, John Gregory Dunne, the second about the loss of their mutual daughter, Quintana Dunne. The former is also the book most Norwegians know Didion – and it is not strange, it is tempting to say, because this is a book in which the nature of grief is lived – through written – in detail.
At the moment, I can't think of books other than Roland Barthes' book about the loss of his mother who has the same intensity and closeness to how to think when you lose someone closest to you. But where Barthes formulates in diary-like, haiku-like aphorisms, Didion is closer both to what happened and how she thought after the death.
She had trouble getting rid of her shoes, because what if he needed them when he returned?
She had trouble getting rid of her shoes, because what if he needed them when he returned?
Intelligent composition. Dunne tells the story of Didion chronologically and shapes the film according to central texts in her writing, which he stops by and gives us excerpts of along the way. Many historical clips from her life (including several interviews) are also woven into the story. But the human core is rooted in Didion himself, who comments on both his personal history and his texts. It all gets an extra warmth, since it is her nephew who is both a director and an interviewer; It is obvious that they care about each other. It is a breathtaking sight to see the now 82-year-old Didion look back at his work.
The film is also enriched by the many friends and collaborators Didion has had over the years, not least the editor of the New York Review of Books – an exemplary editor in every way – who made her step out in the political commentary. He relied entirely on Didion's sentencing when she would write about the five young African Americans who were innocently brought to justice after a rape in Central Park in the 80s. The result was one of her best texts and a manifesto for independent thinking and not to get rid of what everyone else thinks about a case.
Loose ends. Should I be a bit critical, Dunne's touch anxiety must be mentioned. This is especially true of daughter Quintana's death and Didion's own relationship with food. It emerges during the movie that Quintana drank too much – something Didion says directly (for the first time, presumably) – but Dunne does not follow up on the matter, which is strange since drinking is obviously a sore point for Didion and possibly, we get A clue, too, is linked to neglect on her own part.
Has she been an absent mother? Has she been too busy with her writing and celebrity friends? This remains diffuse and should have been followed up by the director.
The same goes for her own possible eating disorder. Both today, but also in older photos of her, we see well how picky Didion is and was. When several friends of her even mention how worried they are about her food intake, it is strange that this is not followed up either.
It is a breathtaking sight to see the now 82-year-old Didion look back at his work.
Children on acid. In another scene, during one of the interview sequences where The Summer of Love and the essay collection Slouching Towards Bethlehem is the theme, we hear about Didion's visit to a party in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco. Here she comes across a five year old child with white lipstick, high on LSD. What did Didion think about this, the director wonders, to which Didion replies that it was "gold".
I have to pause for a moment before realizing that this was "gold" because Didion is primarily a writer, and that she looked for entrances to the time she lived in, scenes that captured its peculiarity. But that just so not If gold is human, it is not investigated further, nor is the nature of journalistic gold in the seams. I really want to see more digging into how she thinks about writing based on this scene, but this remains unexplored.
Things like this pull down, and I ask myself: Can there be fear of going into the really touchy details that make this hang in the air? I don't know, but despite some beauty flaws, this is still a very good – and for many longed for – movie portrait of Didion – and probably the best introduction to her that exists.
